


Politics

by dawnstruck



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Character Study, Hate Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, The Junior Suite, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4374806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnstruck/pseuds/dawnstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Wu throws a tantrum and Mako has had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Politics

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for the fandom. Have some Wuko hate sex. You're welcome.

“I can't believe it!” Wu is still ranting as they get to the junior suite. He's so enraged he tries to slam the door shut after he enters, never heeding the fact that Mako is following right behind him.

Mako stops the door from whacking him in the face with an outstretched arm. It jars his wrist slightly, and he is vaguely impressed by the strength Wu seems to glean from his anger. But mostly, he is annoyed.

“The audacity!” Wu rails now, kicking against one of his many suitcases that have been neatly arranged in the middle of the room.

Admittedly, these quarters are quite a bit smaller than the presidential suite, but what difference does it make, really? Wu is the sole inhabitant and, despite his gigantic ego, he doesn't take up much physical space. And he's barely in his own rooms anyway, preferring to go shopping or to the movers, doing spa days and interviews and whatever catches his fancy.

“It's not that bad,” Mako tries to reason with him, “These rooms will do. Especially since you'll be returning to Ba Sing Se soon enough.”

“That's not the point!” Wu glares at him as though he had just been stabbed in the back by his most trusted, “It's not about the suite! This is politics! Kuvira is showing me just what she can do. Because while I might be King by the end of the day, she still holds a lot of power. Ugh!”

He kicks out again, this time toppling over a chair, its fall luckily cushioned by the thick rug beneath their feet.

Mako finds himself somewhat surprised at Wu's insight on the workings of the power play at hand. So far, the heir to the throne had mostly seemed concerned with what clothes to wear as a ruling monarch instead of how to actually rule.

“The coronation will settle matters,” Mako reassures him, though there have been enough incidences with Kuvira supporters that have proven how things are not as clean-cut. The Earth Kingdom has been in disarray for a while – installing a new head of state, of whatever nature, will not simply make all these problems disappear.

“Arg!” Wu lets out now and grabs a pretty expensive looking vase from the coffee table.

“Wai-” Mako tries to stop him, but he has barely opened his mouth when Wu has already send the vase sailing through the air and smashing against the floral-pattern wallpaper. The porcelain shatteres into dozens of tiny pieces that scatter themselves throughout the room with the force of it.

Mako feels a brief moment of pity for the poor person who will have to clean up this mess and pick the shards out of the rug, but then it occurs to him that he might as well be that person.

Since he'd been assigned as Wu's bodyguard, he's also been pressured into the role of babysitter, servant, cleaning lady, and occasional wingman, though Mako had drawn the line at the last one.

Now, he can finally feel his patience snap.

“Maybe the people would be more keen on having someone back on the throne if the new monarch weren't as spoiled and mercurial and petty as the old one!” he hisses and takes a step forward, but then his brain is already registering the implied threat in that gesture.

He's Prince Wu's bodyguard. He's supposed to protect him, not wring his neck. But that brat is just making it so difficult.

And now he is looking at Mako with those defiant eyes, and Mako realizes this is more than just the usual temper tantrum, this is serious, this is something that Wu cannot be distracted from with a trip downtown.

“Did you just insult the Crown, Detective?” Wu hisses, eyes narrowing, and Mako barely lets himself contemplate his next words.

“How could I?” he scoffs, “There's only that stupid broach left, after all.”

This could be the moment where the tension dispels. Where they turn it into a joke and laugh it off, and Mako never oversteps his boundaries again. But it's not.

With an enraged yell, Wu throws himself at Mako, starting to pummel him with his small fists.

Mako just sidesteps the worst of it, and even then the few blows that Wu does land barely even hurt. His ire is uncontained, making him shake and quiver, and hindering him more than harming Mako.

Eventually, though, Mako gets fed up enough that he simply catches Wu by the wrists and lifts them up over his head. But the prince keeps struggling, starts kicking, so Mako tugs him up farther, until he is forced to stand on his tiptoes, barely even keeping his balance.

“Let me go!” Wu hissess like a small animal, more stubborness than sense, the words bitten off and his voice shaking with anger.

“No,” Mako growls back, proving the point by tightening his grip on those spindely arms. And Wu's skin is dark, but he still looks like someone who would bruise easily. Someone who'd pick at his sore spots for days, and moan and pout and pity himself.

Prince Wu never had to fight for his own survival, Mako realizes with sudden clarity, though it's a fact that he had logically known all along. Wu did not grow up on the streets and wonder where to spend the night, wonder how much food he could give to his brother without starving himself, wonder whether he should just accept one of those offers that are made in dark alleyways behind seedy bars. Wu never had to learn how to bear pain and swallow fear.

All of a sudden, Mako is angry. A kind of anger that supersedes the exasperation and annoyance he has felt at getting stuck with a babysitting job, at having to defend someone from getting hit with pies.

This anger is raw and real and dates back to the days when he had scoffed at people like Korra and Asami who were rich and famous and beautiful from birth, whose fathers were influencial men, who learned to fight because they could, not because they had to.

“I will report this to Chief Bei Fong!” Wu is still trying to tug himself free, but in the face of Mako's superior strength he has to resort to another kind of threat, “You will be fired!”  
“Just try it!” Mako jeers, leaning closer, “This is the only thing you can do, isn't it? Intimidating people with your position. You're no better than your horrible aunt!”

“I'm nothing like her!” Wu snaps then and jerks his knee up, landing a solid hit square in Mako's gut.

The breath it knocked out of Mako, making him wheeze, and automatically he lets go of Wu, holding on to his sore stomach.

Instead of backing off and making good of his threat to seek out Bei Fong, however, Wu chooses to just throw himself at Mako once more. This time, they topple over together, going down hard, and then they are wrestling on the floor, twisting and turning and spitting like batcats.

And Mako is taller and stronger and just more experienced when it comes to stupid brawls like these, but Wu is quick and weasely and he scratches at Mako, leaving angry lines at his neck, his hands, his belly.

Mako's uniform has ridden up, buttons tugged upon, and it takes him a bit to notice that this is not just a side effect of their fight, but that Wu is doing it on purpose, tearing at Mako's clothes as though they had personally offended him.

In that moment, Mako realizes several things in quick sucession. Firstly, he currently has the upperhand and has Wu's skinny body bracketed between his hands and knees. Secondly, the prince is glaring daggers at him, but his face is strangely flushed. Thirdly, they are both hard.

This is another moment in which they could all shrug it off. They could just stop fighting and awkwardly go back to how things were before, or they could _keep_ fighting and really try to beat the shit out of each other.

The first option doesn't really sound very appealing at all, while the latter isn't a good idea either what with the coronation just a little while away and with reporters in attendance who will undoubtably ask how Prince Wu could possibly end up with a black eye when he had such a capable bodyguard taking care of him.

Unexpectedly, though, Wu presents a third option by lifting up his hips and grinding up against Mako, hard.

Mako grits his teeth and digs his fingers in where they are holding down Wu's forearms.

This is just another way Wu tries to get to him, he thinks. Wu is always too flirty, always too close, always ignoring any sort of propriety.

But Wu is not batting his eyelashes now, not dishing out compliments left and right. He's glaring at Mako and pressing up against him, and when he does his breath hitches a little, not a quite a moan, but enough to make Mako falter and let go off him, sitting up and leaning back quickly, as though burnt by the fire he usually bends.

Yet Wu only uses his new-found freedom to surge upwards and sink his fingers into Mako's hair, painfully pulling him closer by it, making his head jerk uncomfortably.

A sharp hiss escapes Mako, but then Wu is kissing him, biting at his lips, pushing his tongue into his mouth.

“Stop!” Mako snaps when he manages to pull back, getting his arms between them. He's looking at Wu with wide eyes, surprise and anger and disgust. “We can't do that.”

But Wu only scoffs.

“Coward,” he says and his insouciance makes Mako's temper flare up all over again.

“Damn you!” he curses and this time it's him who attacks.

It's weird, he thinks. He's never gone from fighting someone to making out with them, though when he was dating Korra it was always a close thing.

Wu is nothing like Korra, though. There's the dark skin, but that's were the similarities end. Korra had been lean muscle, rough hands, and chapped lips. Wu's bones dig into Mako in uncomfortable places, but most of him is incredibly soft, hair and skin and clothes.

Even the smell couldn't be more different. Korra had always had a little bit of wet dog about her, clean sweat and that slightly singed firebender scent that Mako himself carried. Wu was more like Asami in that regard, always covered in some sort of heady perfume, but with a touch of musk underneath it. That damned smell had been driving Mako crazy for weeks, and it had seemed to be rubbing off on him, so much so that even Bei Fong commented on it.

Now Mako is getting back at Wu by rubbing himself all over him, dragging his lips over the side of Wu's neck and biting at the tender flesh. And Wu whimpers, not in pain, but in pleasure, and Mako finds himself rather surprised by that.

From the way he has always seen Wu butter up the ladies, he'd expected him him to be someone who wants to be worshiped by his lovers, who uses a few cheap lines and then demands attention to be lavished on him. Instead, Wu seems to enjoy being pushed at, being held down, and in a fit of morbid curiosity, Mako sinks his hand into thick brown hair and pulls.

Wu mewls loudly, his hot breath brushing against Mako's ear, making goosebumps spread along the back of his neck.

Mako's uniform is completely unbuttoned now and insistent hands push it off his shoulders, only to start tugging at his undershirt as well, pulling it over his head and mussing up his sensible hair style.

His breathing is elevated and he sits above above Wu who has leaned back on his elbows to appreciatively run his gaze across the expanse of Mako's bare chest.

And Mako has always had trouble putting on muscle, quietly envying Bolin and his bulk, but Wu just reaches out a brown hand, his fingertips barely even grazing Mako's nipple. Then he smirks, and pinches and _pulls_.

A pained groan escapes Mako, eyes squeezing shut with furrowed brows, and Wu just chuckles, not so different from the sound he makes when he thinks Mako is doing something adorable but stupid.

Without even thinking about it, Mako has reached out and slapped him across the cheek.

It's not a hard slap, not at all, but it must still sting, especially in the way that no one has ever laid a hand on the prince before.

Wu is staring at Mako with wide green eyes, his kiss-bitten lips wet and parted, and Mako would return to his senses and apologize at once if it weren't for the fact that he could distinctly feel Wu's cock twitch against him in reaction to the slap.

So that's how it is, Mako thinks vaguely and grins, a sharp little thing that has Wu's pupils dilate even more.

He spreads his knees a little, giving Wu some more room to escape. He doesn't.

“Get up,” Mako tells him, the first words since their impromptu wrestle match on the floor and so unexpected that Wu doesn't even react.

“Now,” Mako warns with more force and that finally has Wu wriggle and scamper out from under him, the movements pointed enough that he must be intentionally grinding up against Mako, but then he is already on his feet.

He's a little bit huched in on himself, probably not quite at ease with the situation as he would like to pretend, his crotch at Mako's eye level and feeling exposed, and it is such a nice change to see him a little uncertain.

“Strip,” Mako says and smirks up at him.

For a moment Wu just stares, either not believing that Mako has just given him such an order, any order at all really, or contemplating whether to actually obey.

Yet slowly, very slowly, Wu complies.

His fingers are shaking a little as they come up to undo the upper layer of his outfit, parting the silk and letting it slip to the floor, never taking his eyes off Mako who just sits back on his hunches and watches, trying to appear unfazed, maybe even bored.

There's an uptick to Wu's lips, that sign of annoyance that has become so familiar over the past weeks. Wu doesn't like it when people ignore him. Wu likes it even less when people are not impressed by him.

With a deep breath, Wu puffs up his chest and tilts his chin up in that arrogant manner of his.

When he peers down at Mako now, along his nose and underneath his messed up fringe, he seems like his usual confident self. Mako can tell that it's mostly fake, but he cannot help but appreciate Wu's attitude in this moment. It makes him easier to dislike, easier to disregard any worries whether this is really alright with him.

“All of it,” Mako prompts him when Wu has taken off his shirts. Wu glares but doesn't hesitate to bend down in order to take off his shoes.

Mildly, Mako wonders whether the prince ever really had to do something as menial as dressing himself for the day, as folding his laundry and putting it away. Probably not.

Bent over like this, he his much closer to Mako and then he just tilts his head up so their faces are barely an inch apart. He waits for neither order nor permission, just leans in and presses his lips against Mako's.

It's a fleeting kiss, no tongue, no teeth, and when he straightens up again he is already making short work of his pants. Soon enough, he is standing in front of Mako in all of his naked skinny glory.

They could get each other off, Mako thinks. He could get Wu to jerk himself off, put on a bit of a show, and then have him suck him off. That sounded like an acceptable scenario.

Wu, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Are you going to fuck me?” he asks haughtily, and both the tone and the vulgarity out of that mouth send another spike of arousal through Mako's body.

“Depends,” he answers at length, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Wu just blows his fringe out of his face, “Do you really care about what I want?”

Gradually, Mako smiles.

“No,” he says, because he doesn't, “Get on the bed, then.”

Wu hums and turns around, sauntering off into the direction of the bedroom. He passes his pile of luggage and grabs a smaller bag off the top, but Mako is more transfixed by his smooth, if bony ass.

Mako reaches down to adjust himself in his pants, his erection making it somewhat difficult to get to his feet. He takes a deep breath and slowly breathes out through his nose, hoping to calm himself. Then he follows after Wu.

The prince is already sprawled out on the sheets in a manner that seems careless but still shows that he knows exactly what he is doing.

Mako has barely stepped over the threshold when an object is being tossed at him and he catches it reflexively. When he inspects it, it seems inconspicuous enough, like one of the many toiletries Wu always uses, but after unscrewing the lid of the tin he realizes that it is actually some sort of slick.

So this is possibly not the first time the prince has done something like this. Mako doesn't know whether to be surprised or not.

His mouth is dry as he walks closer to the bed, sitting down on the mattress and contemplating how to procede. Usually, when he is with someone, he takes his time to explore their body, to find their ticklish spots and where to kiss to make them sigh.

This situation is different, though, made all the more obvious by the way Wu just lets his legs fall open and and exposes himself, any previous shame forgotten.

“Today, if you'd please,” he drawls, “I have a coronation to get to.”

Mako bites the inside of his cheek and digs into the tin, removing a generous amount of slick and coating his fingers with it. Not allowing himself to think, he reaches out and circles the Prince's taint in slow movements. Then he pushes a finger in.

Wu's only reaction in a grin and a tiny hitch of his breath. Definitely done this before, Mako thinks, and adds a second finger, sliding and scissoring them in and out.

A part of him wants to prepare Wu like this until he is writhing and weeping and begging, but mostly he wants there to be enough friction left to have them both grit their teeth.

“Turn around,” Mako orders after a while and this time, Wu is quick to do as he is told. And Mako would be more reluctant, would second-guess this whole thing more carefully, if it weren't for the obvious fact that Wu probably wants this even more than he does.

When Wu is on his hands and knees in front of him, Mako unbuttons his pants and takes his time to slick himself up as well, and he has to grip the base of his cock for a moment to get his bearings.

Then he aligns himself and carefully pushes inside, inch by inch.

Both he and Wu breathe out at the same time, slow and drawn-out, until Mako's crotch presses up to Wu's ass, giving them both a moment to adjust. Then he pulls out againt before slowly sliding back in.

“I'm not quite as fragile as you always take me to be,” Wu informs him dryly and at once Mako finds himself reminded of why they are doing this in the first place.

He snaps his hips, making Wu jerk forward with the force of it.

Wu clenches around him and it's just this side of painful for the both of them, but Mako doesn't bother with holding back anymore, his hands on Wu's hips, pulling him back on his cock with every powerful thrust.

Wu's fingers are clenched in the silken sheets, his thin arms quivering with the effort of keeping his leverage, and Mako can see the tension of it between his shoulder blades. He thinks of unstoppable forces and immovable objects then and snaps his hips even harder.

Wu just laughs, as though royally amused by this entire farce, and Mako just can't have that.

He pulls out, reveling in the disappointed noise the other makes, but then flips Wu around and pushes back in again in one smooth movement.

Wu moans in gratitude at being filled once more, propped up on his elbows and letting his head fall back, his thighs splayed wide, quivering.

Mako cannot help but watch him intently, the way Wu's eyes flicker open momentarily to gleam at him before falling shut again, his pearly teeth just barely exposed in his grin that is usually so swarmy, but now has become a single challenge.

This is politics, Mako recalls what the Prince had said before in regards to Kuvira. And in a way, _this_ is politics, too.

Because Wu has flirted with him in the way he flirts with pretty much everybody, he's dropped subtle hints that he appreciates Mako as more than just a bodyguard, but now they have entered a sphere of their relationship that they will never be able to step away from again.

Wu has given Mako the power to hurt him, ruin him, destroy him. While Mako might be fired for his transgressions if this whole scandal were dug up, Wu's deviation might threaten his reign, might lose him followers and respect.

And in a way, Mako realizes, this is possibly Wu's ultimate demonstration of trust.

The mere thought makes Mako grow even hotter and, embolded, he pushes Wu down on the mattress, his left hand gathering the slender wrists in a vice grip above Wu's head, while the other reaches down to stroke Wu in sync with every thurst.

Mako is a firebender, he naturally runs a little hotter than most people, and now the heat that is eminating from him has sweat gathering on Wu's skin and Mako cannot resist the temptation to lick the salt right off his arched neck, following it up with another bite.

Wu keens, his body tensing even more, just before reaching his peak, and then he rides out the waves of pleasure in such a way that Mako is inevitably dragged in, hiding his face in Wu's damp hair and groaning against him.

The undulations of his hips slowly die down and, when he feels like he can breathe evenly again, he finally dares to open his eyes.

The sight that greets him is an unexpectedly satisfying one because Wu looks positively wrecked. His hair is a mess, his entire face flushed, and his body is still quivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

I did that, Mako thinks and that fact is more gratifying than any kind of sex could ever be.

Nevertheless, he resolves that it's probably for the best if they don't linger in the afterglow because they do have a coronation to attend and should probably get the Prince back in a state where he is presentable to the public. Mako's has met enough journalists to know that most of them are able to smell an illicit affair from miles away and he really doesn't want to be featured in the headlines of the evening newspaper.

With a grimace, he pulls out of Wu, frowning down at the mess they made together and hoping that the other will not demand to soak in yet another bubblebath in order to clean up. They are on a bit of a tight schedule, after all.

Wu doesn't seem to mind, though, just gives a pleased hum, reaching his arms over his head and stretching his entire body as though he had just woken from a very refreshing nap.  
“We should do this again sometime,” he says as he always does after one of his spa treatments or a night at the bar, “Maybe it'll help you relax. You're always so high-strung.”

“We're not doing this again,” Mako tells him seriously because he just fucked the soon-to-be King of the Earth Kingdom and if Bei Fong ever finds out she will murder him and feed his entrails to the turtleducks at the park.

“We will,” Wu just promises with a glint in his eyes, “Because you will accompany me back to Ba Sing Se and oversee my inauguration. Just think of how unbearable I will be when I am actually king. Eventually, you'll just get fed up again. And then you'll punish me.”

“This wasn't a punishment,” Mako says automatically, feeling the need to defend himself. But Wu just huffs.

“No?” he asks, “Then what was it?”

“Just... a little bit of fun,” Mako claims, having to look away because of course this is the time his brain decides to be embarrassed and send a blush to his cheeks.  
“I thought you don't know how to have fun,” Wu teases, but then he is already rolling ouf of bed, not caring for the cum that is running down his chest and stomach, and between his thighs.

“I'm going to freshen up a little,” he announces as if he just had to powder his nose instead of erasing the evidence of some really rough sex, and marches off towards the adjoining bathroom.

“No bubblebath,” Mako warns, “We're in a hurry.”

“I know, I know,” Wu waves him off lazily, but then just smirks over his shoulder, “We could shower together to save time.”

“That's not going to save time,” Mako mutters to himself, spiteful and exasperated, but then he follows anyway.

Wu, as almost always, only laughs.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Why are there so few fanworks again for this pairing? There's so much delicious UST, after all.


End file.
